When toasting a hundredth birthday, Right after exchanging hearsay, One day, having bought a bouquet, While sharing a hot fudge sundae, Once, after a roll in the hay, En route to a small, French café, Inclined to eat dinners, gourmet, When out for a ride on their sleigh, One wintery Valentine's Day, One evening, right after a play,

Shared some snacks, deli-cate, Had some food and debate, Were engaged as they ate, Had cake on a plate, Ate oats, quite first-rate, Ate cake from their fáte, Had lunch in Kuwait, Sipped hot choc-o-late, Had buffet at eight, Had steak on a date,

And then, south, did migrate, Gaining plenty of weight, 'Cause each needed a mate, And said it was great, And raced to the gate, Sharing a tête-á-tête, In a palace, ornate, And went for a skate, And got home quite late, And quite overate,

Cheering, "yahoo!" and "hip-hip-hooray!" And found themselves in Santa Fe. So, surely, in pounds, they did pay. And marriage, they felt, was OK. And did happy times stop there? Oh, nay! Then dined on champagne and paté. Then had a dessert in Bombay. Then warmed up with cherries flambé. Because they got carried away. With heartburn, much to their dismay.